Guy Ford Run

There's a road just past the Cove Creek store that takes you straight in to Tennessee. Emmy & I drove with the windows down to let the wind break up the 80 degree heat. Emmy casually out sang every song that came on the radio. I let my hand ride the warm current as we cruised down to Guy Ford Road, just past the burnt down Citgo. This, is summer.
"Can I put my bathing suit in your bag?" I added the small fabric to my micro pack as we both stretched our calves on the car's hub caps. The trail follows the river & changes from sand to sizeable boulders. I watch the ground, gaining confidence as the terrain tests my footwork. We stop when the trail runs out, right in front of a pocket of river rat cabins. The rock towards the middle of the river catch sun so we sprawl out, eyes closed. Feet in the water. "The wind & the water are both saying the same thing," Emmy says. I let one eye squint at the scene. "Go, go, go."
I tilt back off the rock; my curls catch the current. The water is a steady, deep green body & moves much faster when its upside down. We change behind a waist high rock & Emmy leads the trail back. Just before the sand beaches, I look up to sip a water bottle. My left foot hits a slanted rock in the path and I roll my ankle, dropping like a sack of hot taters & wet hair. A few minutes go by before some teenagers help me up. I limp back to the car, laughing. "It was really healing, truly," I lament, back in the car, my souvenir on the dash. Slow hikes & pilates for a while. I weigh the odds of still being able to climb on our tin roof; Emmy takes a back road, home to the Branch.